The Takeover
by nygirl8
Summary: Edward Cullen is a corporate tycoon, in charge of all aspects of his life. Unfortunately, the one obstacle to his latest project doesn't know that yet...but she'll learn it soon enough.
1. The Meeting

**Okay, so a new story! I'm so excited about this. I haven't forgotten about Underneath It All, unfortunately, I just haven't been inspired lately (or in like, the last 5 months) to write anything for it, so my apologies. But I've been playing with this idea for the last week, and I've finally decided to put pen to paper and write it. Plus, there's not much else to do during a 4-hour drive.**

**Of course, Twilight and all the characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.**

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We had been sitting in the car in silence for over half an hour now. Outside, the narrow sidewalk had a few people walking around, but inside, it was quiet. I leaned back in my seat and focused on the bane of my existence outside. Finally my driver, evidently bored with waiting, asked the question I had been pondering for over a week now.

"What's the plan, Mr. Cullen?"

I glanced at him, then looked outside again. Normally I didn't like anyone asking questions of me, but Tyler had been with me over three years, and I considered him something more than an employee. And in this case he was right. Delaying the inevitable was pointless.

"I'm going in," I replied, opening the door of the towncar. Seeing this, Tyler's eyes bulged and he leapt out of the driver's side, hurrying around to my door. This was part of why I liked him. Even after years in my employ, he still took the job seriously. I couldn't abide slackers in my organization. They were what brought a business down.

He finished pulling open the door and I stepped out, buttoning my suit jacket and smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle from my sleeve. It wouldn't do to face my adversary as anything other than immaculate.

I nodded my thanks to Tyler before crossing the street. It was a quiet road, with few cars passing by. It was my intention to change that. There was just one thing standing in my way.

I stopped in front of the narrow townhouse that was causing me so many problems. Painted a dove grey with weathered navy shutters, it was a bit historic looking. Luckily for me, it wasn't actually historic. It had been built 30 years ago, and the original owner had kept it for 28 years. He had then sold it to my current problem. The new owner. She had replaced the old man's jewelry repair business with a bookstore. A bookstore that she was refusing to sell.

I stood outside the bookstore for a moment. I couldn't understand why this woman was so attached to the place. I grudgingly conceded the building could be considered charming, but in the half-hour I had watched the place, I had seen one person go inside, and emerge 20 minutes later empty-handed. The store couldn't be turning much of a profit.

I exhaled gustily, unsure why I was even stopping to consider the matter of the store's profits. This place had massively delayed my plans for the city block. Everyone had agreed to sell months ago. Everyone except the ridiculous bookstore owner. Since then, I had sent numerous agents of mine to the store, prepared to cajole, threaten, bribe…whatever was necessary. But they had all returned to me with the same story.

"_She's not there. She's on a buying trip in Europe…a Caribbean vacation…family emergency...The girl working there says she'll give her the message, but she never called us back."_

Over and over, different excuses, same result. No one I had sent had even _met_ Isabella Swan. I had almost started to believe she didn't exist.

So here I was, forced to take matters into my own hands and come to the store myself. I pushed open the door, unintentionally announcing my arrival with the tinkling of a bell. I looked up, seeing the small piece of metal attached to the door's frame. So much for the element of surprise.

Then again, there wasn't much chance of that anyway. The counter where the register sat was right in front of me, though there didn't seem to be anyone manning it at the moment. I stepped up to it and realized that in fact there was someone there, as a most pleasing sight met my eyes. A young woman knelt behind the counter, her back to me, sorting through a box of books and muttering to herself. I cleared my throat, but she didn't look up. Instead, her voice floated to me, clear and lilting, as she said, "Give me one moment, I'll be right with you. Feel free to look around until then."

But since the store itself couldn't provide me with any contact information for its owner, it was of no use to me to investigate it. Instead, I remained at the counter, surveying the woman behind it. In a most objective way, I examined what I could see of her figure – slim legs, the upper half covered by a tan skirt, lean arms, clad in a burgundy sweater, narrow feet in a pair of suede flats, pale, clear skin, shiny dark hair. It had been almost a month since I had terminated my relationship with Jessica, and I was growing restless with vapid society beauties, none of whom could fully satisfy me. My sexual desires required a long-term relationship; unfortunate then, that I had had to end things with Jessica before I had found someone else I was interested in.

Not that that person was this girl; certainly not. She was far too young for me. But still, I was bored and on edge, so I traced the lines of her figure over and over, until she finally turned around to face me, a pleasant smile on her lips.

"What can I help you with, sir?"

It became overwhelmingly clear to me in that moment that I _really _needed a satisfying sexual encounter, and soon. Hearing her smooth, angelic voice had me hardening beneath my pants, and I was grateful that the counter concealed my lower half from her. I shifted a bit on my side as she waited patiently for my reply, dark chocolate eyes wide and her rosebud lips slightly parted. Well, at least a voice like that didn't belong to an old hag, that would have been truly horrifying.

"Sir?" she prompted, her dark eyebrows knitting together in confusion as I continued to stare at her. She self-consciously tucked a lock of hair behind her ear as we stood in silence.

"Sir?" she asked again, as I groaned inwardly, feeling myself become fully erect beneath my pants. Hearing the word 'Sir' come out of her mouth again, fuck. All at once, I could picture her naked, kneeling before me, all that pale creamy skin revealed to my gaze, her dark eyes bright as she gazed up at me, waiting for my command, and-

"Sir? Sir? Is there something I can help you with?" her voice was becoming cross by now, and I imagined what I'd do the next time she spoke to me that way, picturing her bare bottom upturned across my lap. With the cold calculation that had always been an integral part of me, I made a decision. This slim, dark-haired girl would be my next submissive. _Finally._ Fuck her age.

"Yes," I said in response, hearing my voice come out in a croak. I cleared my throat quickly; after all, I certainly wasn't going to approach this girl like a nervous virgin. I was the farthest thing from a virgin. "There is something you can help me with."

She stared at me expectantly as I reminded myself, _business before pleasure, always business before pleasure_. "I need to speak to the owner of this establishment. My name is Edward Cullen." I withdrew a business card from my pocket and laid it on the counter, smiling coolly as her eyes grew wider.

"Edward Cullen?" she asked shakily. "But you've always sent other people before…" her voice trailed off, almost as if she were afraid to reveal too much of her thoughts to me.

"Indeed I have," I said silkily. Here I was in my element. "But Ms. Swan is proving unnecessarily stubborn about my acquisition of this property, so I came to do some persuading myself. Where is she?"

The girl's eyes flashed as she crossed her arms in front of her, preparing to do battle. I calmly smirked back at her. There was nothing I loved more than a good fight. Well, almost nothing.

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_Please review._


	2. The Lie

**An update! Two days is extremely fast for me, but this speed won't be continuing. I just hate studying! So I put it off by writing (which is bad). Thank you to everyone who reviewed the first chapter. Please leave a review if you like the story! They really are my inspiration!**

**This story is rated M for a reason! So all children, please leave now. Go find another story to read.**

**Of course, Twilight and all the characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.**

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I glared at the man before me. What an arrogant ass! None of his little minions had been able to intimidate me into selling, so he was here to do the job himself? Well, he wouldn't be meeting 'Ms. Swan' either.

I strove for an unruffled tone as I spoke, "She's not here. Would you like to leave a message for her?" I smiled as I realized how perfectly prim my voice was. The ideal shopgirl. Composed and courteous.

"No, I would not," he ground out, polite, though just barely. "I find it amazing that the owner of this shop spends so little time - in fact, that she is _never_ here seems odd to me."

"Mr. Cullen, what do you think is the purpose of a bookstore?" I asked him abruptly. Not giving him a chance to respond, I pressed on. "Ms. Swan believes it's more than making a profit. She believes she is selling people a whole new life, teaching them a new way of thinking."

"So Ms. Swan is a disciple of Christopher Morley, then?" he responded silkily.

I blinked at him in surprise, not expecting him to know that. "Yes. And so she prefers to travel for new finds and leave the running of the shop to others." I glanced around the shop, allowing myself a small smile. I loved this place, with its rows and rows of unique titles and cozy reading nooks. It was my own little haven in the world – my _only _haven. And here was this man trying to take it from me – so he could do what, build a mall?

"And the people left to run this shop – that would be you." His tone conveyed he wasn't asking a question, only stating a fact.

"Yes. That would be me." His steady gaze was making me nervous. I looked away, twisting my hands together. Then I realized the gesture gave away my nervousness and instead began rearranging the items on the counter, straightening the business cards already in a perfectly neat pile and moving a stack of papers from one side of the desk to the other. "And in that capacity, Ms. Swan has asked me to convey her message that she has no wish to sell…that, in fact, she will _not_ be selling."

His large hands entered my frame of vision, and I watched as he stopped my nervous movements, pressing my hands to the desk with his own. I jolted at the touch of his cool hands on mine, looking up at him in shock.

"Sir?"

His eyes darkened at that single word, and he stared at me for a moment in silence, until finally he cut out a sentence, his voice low and dark. "If you keep biting your lip like that, I won't be held responsible for my actions."

I gasped, feeling a hot blush come over my face, and immediately ceased the nervous worrying of my lip. _What actions was he not going to be responsible for?_ I looked down at our joined hands, allowing my hair to fall in a curtain around my face, hiding my expression from him.

His hands left mine, and suddenly they were in front of my face, tucking my hair behind my ears. One hand grasped my chin, forcing my eyes to meet his. They were still a dark emerald – dark with what? It almost looked like longing. I gasped inwardly and shivered as a thought occurs to me. Could this man – this powerful, extraordinarily striking man - _want _me? Why would he want _me_?

I shook my head, and his hand, still holding my chin, followed my movements. "What is it?" he murmured. I shook my head again, and he persisted in asking another question. "What is your name?"

"A-Angela," I stuttered, giving him the name that I'd been giving all the Cullen employees that had visited. At least my story is consistent.

"Well, Angela, you can inform your boss that I will be back. _Soon_," he emphasized, his grip tightening on my chin. I gave a whimper and he released me abruptly, trailing a finger down my cheek before he pulled his hand back.

I shook my head. "She won't sell. You should stop trying."

"Really?" he asked silkily. But I could hear the steel underlying his tone.

"Really."

He gave a short chuckle. "Angela, I have never ceased pursuing anything that I have truly wanted, _ever_. I have had a great deal of success that way," he told me. "And I have learned, that if I never stop trying, I will always get what I want. _Always_." His eyes darkened further. "Your boss would do well to remember that. As would you."

Abruptly he turned, stalking back to the door and pulling it open. He turned back to look at me, the innocuous chiming of bells at odds with his ominous expression. "I'll be back," he said, stepping out and slamming the door behind him.

At his exit, I sagged against the back wall, my knees shaking. I stared at my trembling hands in front of me, then ventured back to the counter and pick up his business card, running my fingers over the embossed lettering on expensive cream-colored linen, the only sign he was ever here. Well, the only sign besides my trembling limbs.

Still clutching his business card, I moved from behind the counter and made a beeline for my favorite chair, a comfortable red velvet antique that my mother had bought, years ago. I sagged into it, closing my eyes and taking deep, calming breaths as the door chimed again. "I'll be right with you," I called out to my mystery customer as I keep my eyes closed.

I could hear heavy footsteps coming closer, and a familiar shiver worked its way down my spine again. _Oh, no_. I looked up, and Edward Cullen was towering over me, his expression closed but his eyes blazing.

"Mr. Cullen-" I began, but he didn't give me a chance to say anything more, grasping my upper arms and pulling me up from my chair. I could feel my feet leaving the floor, and I shrieked, my hands desperately grasping his shoulders as they reached out for something to hold onto.

"I left here, Angela, and realized I forgot something," he murmured, breathing hot, mint-scented air over my face.

I looked at him, bewildered, our faces now at the same height thanks to his efforts. Finally, the shock left me and I arched back against his hands. "Mr. Cullen! Put me do-"

My protests were cut off as his lips crashed down on mine, pressing hard against me as I tried to make sense of the situation. I could feel his tongue running across my lips, seeking entrance to my mouth. I gasped at the foreign sensations it elicited within me, and he took advantage of my open mouth to steal inside, his tongue demanding and persuasive, his mouth delicious and minty.

I could feel my fingers clutch his shoulders as the kiss continued, his arms the only thing keeping me upright. Finally, he pulled back, sliding me down his body until my feet touch the floor again. His hands still held my arms, and I looked back up at him, gasping for air. His face was flushed but composed, and unexpectedly, I found myself infuriated, that something that had such an effect on me had not had the same result on him.

"Is there a problem, Angela?" his cultured voice reached my ears, as calm and composed as his face. I flushed. Unfortunately, my face has always given away what I am thinking.

"You, you…" I spluttered. "You _kissed _me. Why did you do that?"

He raised an eyebrow at me. "I kissed you because I wanted to, Angela. Are you telling me you didn't enjoy it?"

"You…you're just trying to manipulate me so you can buy the bookstore," I could feel my eyes fill with angry tears at his scheming actions. "You don't want _me_."

His face darkened at the accusation. "I don't want you?" He pressed his body against mine, until I felt a massive, hard bulge against my stomach. "Do you feel that, Angela? Don't you dare say I don't want you." He pressed into me for a moment, and I could feel my face flush hotly as he grasped my hips and pulled me into him. "But this is as far as we will go. For now."

His presumptuousness staggered me, and I grasped for the right words, planning to finally tell him _exactly_ what I think of him. He watched me silently, a smirk gathering on his face as he seemed to sense my internal struggle. He pulled back from me, releasing my arms as I managed to remain standing.

"Until next time, Angela," he grinned. I heard the door slam behind him again, as my legs gave out beneath me and I collapsed back into the chair.

_Bastard._

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	3. The New Strategy

**Chapter 3! I can't say I'm entirely happy with this chapter, but it's been done for a week now and I'm sick of editing and re-editing it. It is how it is.**

**Thank you to my Chapter 2 reviewers! I promise I read every review. Usually multiple times. And a special thanks to Darkangel0470. I think that was the nicest review I've ever received. :)**

**This story is rated M for a reason! So all children, please leave now.**

**Of course, Twilight and all the characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.**

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I left the bookstore rather pleased. Despite the fact that I _still_ had not found Isabella Swan. But at least I had found something I was looking for – a month was an awfully long time to go without a satisfying sexual encounter.

Hopefully all that would change soon. Angela seemed perfectly suited to my needs. Physically attractive, even if I did typically prefer a more curvaceous shape than her slim frame. Intelligent. And though I had enjoyed her fiery personality in our business dealings, I didn't think she would be that way in the bedroom. _The way she had responded to that kiss…_ I bit back a groan, after all, there were people around.

Her response had been shy, a little tentative. Perhaps innocent. But when she had accustomed herself to what was happening, she had responded with a sweetness and fire that I found enthralling. Certainly she was inexperienced, likely only subject before to the sexual fumblings of a few teenage boys. I smiled widely. It had been a long time since I had had a novice submissive. Though I could remember the benefits. I would teach her exactly what I liked. It had been a trying task, teaching my last few submissives the differences between their previous masters' preferences and my own.

I frowned as I reached my towncar and Tyler opened the door for me, further considering the situation. How old was Angela? Certainly young. Under 25, undoubtedly. Usually I preferred my submissives to be at least that age. I had discovered that the ones over 25 were usually more mature, more willing to experiment, and less starry-eyed. They didn't expect anything. Many younger girls, freshly out of college, were looking for a husband. That type of girl wasn't for me, as much as my mother wished otherwise.

"Where to, Mr. Cullen?" Tyler asked from the front.

"Back to the office, Tyler," I told him, settling back into my seat and reining in my thoughts about Angela. After all, it wouldn't do to walk into my office still hard from our encounter.

Soon Tyler was pulling into the underground parking lot of the building where my offices were located. He opened my door for me, and I thanked him, taking the elevator to the 60th floor, where I was promptly met by my no-nonsense assistant, Rosalie.

"Mr. Cullen," she greeted me, stepping forward with a stack of papers. I always wondered how she knew exactly when to come meet me. I rarely called ahead, but I had been assured by the other office workers that she did not, in fact, spend all my time gone standing by the elevator. In the end, I had decided not to question it. She was the best assistant I'd ever had. "You said you'd be back an hour ago."

I raised an eyebrow at her, but didn't say anything. Besides Tyler, Rosalie was one of the few people who spoke freely around me. She was essentially my right hand, one of the reasons the business ran so smoothly. Lately I had been considering promoting her, but had found myself too selfish to follow through. It wasn't like she wasn't making an executive salary as my assistant anyway.

I followed her back to my private office, half-listening as she scolded me for my lateness. It was only when she asked about my meeting that I turned my full attention back to her.

"So? Did you convince the bookstore owner to sell?" she looked at me expectantly as I pulled off my suit jacket, placing it on a hook in my office before sitting down at my desk.

"Unfortunately, no," I grumbled. "She wasn't there. I just met who everyone else has been meeting, the salesgirl, Angela. The girl said Swan had no interest in selling."

"Oh," Rosalie tilted her head thoughtfully, her expression contemplative. "Well...no one has ever met Ms. Swan, correct? Only this Angela girl?" I nodded. "Maybe this girl has never conveyed our offer to Ms. Swan. She could be lying."

I could feel myself tense as Rosalie called Angela a liar. Which was ridiculous. Rosalie had been my loyal assistant for three years, whereas I had just met Angela an hour ago. "I don't think so, Rose. She didn't strike me as the type." Rose opened her mouth to argue with me, but I spoke before she could, "It doesn't matter anyway. I'm going to have Isabella Swan investigated. I don't know why we've wasted all this time trying to contact her through her store, when it's become clear that the chances of her being there are practically nil. Perhaps this way we can find some other mode of contact."

Rose nodded in agreement. "You should discuss this with Mr. Whitlock when he arrives for your meeting."

_Our meeting? Fuck, I had forgotten about that._ Besides being one of my oldest friends, Jasper was the in-house counsel for Cullen Enterprises. I had specifically arranged this meeting to be directly after I went to the bookstore, assuming I would easily persuade Ms. Swan to sell. _Well, that certainly hadn't happened_.

I turned to my computer, opening the calendar that Rose had so efficiently set up. Jasper was due to arrive in 15 minutes.

"Rose, I'll need-"

"-all the current plans for the project on Square 20," Rose finished, handing me a folder from the top of her pile. "And the information we currently have on the bookstore," she said, handing over another folder.

I smiled. "Yes, thank you, Rose. Just let me know when Mr. Whitlock arrives, then send him in."

"Of course," she replied serenely. I watched her perfectly toned legs as she made her exit. Rose was beautiful, but I had never considered sex between us a possibility, and I didn't think she had either. She didn't seem the type that would enjoy my sexual proclivities. Plus, my brother Emmett had been panting after her like a stray dog since the moment they met. Unfortunately for him, she didn't return his affections. She treated him more like a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

I leafed through the paperwork Rose had left. Nothing in the file was news to me. The plan for Square 20 was a 50-story building, with a shopping plaza on its first two levels, and office space taking up most of the remaining floors. The top five floors would be reserved for luxury apartments. _The finest views Seattle could offer._

Unfortunately, no further progress could be made until the square was completely mine. Ms. Swan was the only holdout.

*****

Thirty minutes later, Jasper and I had finished going over the plans for Square 20. Yet again.

"Short meeting," Jasper commented as he leaned back in his chair.

"Yes, well, not quite finished yet," I replied. "Obviously, we can't move forward until the bookstore sells out."

Jasper nodded. "Hence the short meeting. There's nothing else to do."

"Actually, there is." I pulled out the bookstore file again. "As you know, no one I've sent over has managed to meet Ms. Swan. When I was there this afternoon-"

"Wait," Jasper cut me off. "_You_ went to the bookstore?" His face twitched as he attempted to hold back a smile.

I frowned at him, not understanding the reason behind his amusement. "Yes. The situation is becoming a problem. I thought I would be able to find out more than the others have."

"And did you?" He answered his question before I could. "Obviously not, if we're here now. What happened while you were there?"

I smirked at the thought of what actually _did _happen. "I met who everyone else has met. The girl that runs the place. Angela. She told me Ms. Swan is away. Like she's been telling everyone else."

Jasper stared closely at me. "And you're happy about this?"

"Obviously not," I said, looking back at him. "Why would I be happy about this situation?"

"You looked rather pleased just then," he replied. "At the mention of – oh. _Oh_."

"Spit it out, Jazz."

"Well," he started, no longer bothering to hold back his grin. "It _could_ be the challenge. After all, it's been a long time since you've really had to go after something you wanted." I just stared at him stonily. "But I don't really believe that. So," he continued, "it must be the salesgirl."

I shrugged. "We'll see."

He shook his head, laughing now. "Just admit it! We both know I'm right."

I shrugged again. "First we have to take care of business. This bookstore…it's dragged on long enough. Now, here's what I want to do…"

*****

Jasper left after I outlined my plan, promising he'd set up the investigation and have information for me by the end of the week.

Now that the bookstore was being taken care of, I allowed my thoughts to drift back to Angela again. I pictured how I'd left her. Wide, dazed eyes and parted lips. Red, swollen lips. Red, swollen lips that would look so good wrapped around my cock...

I groaned as my thoughts grew more explicit. This was ridiculous. While I had enjoyed and cared about my past submissives, I had never allowed them to distract me at work. The relationships had been those of mutual desire and friendship, but nothing more.

_And maybe that's why they've inevitably ended after a few years_, a voice inside my head taunted me. _Leaving you to find another. Again and again. Because they've all been the wrong ones._

_And she's the right one? _I argued with myself. _I know nothing about her. She may not even be the type…_

_You know she is_, the voice argued back. _Go find out_, it taunted.

I shook my head. There was no reason for me to go back to the bookstore, at least not before the investigation yielded some new information. But I knew I just couldn't stay away.

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**This chapter may have been disappointing to people who are only looking for a lemon-filled story. BUT, I'm trying to write something with a plot, and it does have to advance before B and E's relationship moves ahead. Sorry!**

**_Please review._**


	4. The Real Angela

**Chapter 4! And in less than a week! I'm so happy, even if I did have to stay up till 3am to get this done.**

**Thank you to everyone who's reviewed so far. Please leave a review if you like the story! They really are my inspiration!**

**This story is rated M for a reason! So all children, please leave now. Go find another story to read.**

**Of course, Twilight and all the characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.**

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I flipped the door sign to 'Closed' with a sigh of relief. Though I loved my bookstore, the more eventful days could leave me drained. Today had definitely qualified as eventful. The visit from Edward Cullen alone would have done it. But then the afternoon had been busy, and someone had come in just before closing. I didn't like kicking people out, so he had stayed and browsed for a half-hour while I straightened up. But now I was late.

Once the front door was locked, I flew into the back office, hurrying up the stairs to my apartment. It was wonderfully convenient to live above where I worked – a short commute that was never subject to Seattle's rainy weather.

I kicked off my shoes and shimmied out of my skirt as soon as I entered the apartment, grabbing a pair of jeans that hung over the back of the couch. Changing quickly, I walked into the kitchen to grab my bag. The clock read 5:40, which meant lateness was now unavoidable, since I had just missed my bus. _Crap!_ I rushed back to the foyer, finding a pair of black Converse sneakers there. I shoved my feet into them hurriedly and stumbled, suddenly finding myself falling forward.

I landed with a solid _thunk_, my right wrist and my left elbow taking the brunt of my fall. _Crap again!_ I _hate_ being so clumsy. Sitting back on the floor, I rotate my wrist gingerly and grimace. It's painful to move, and I can tell it's sprained. I'm no stranger to injuries, thanks to my everlasting gracelessness. I would make a really excellent doctor if the sight of blood didn't make me faint.

I sighed, then pushed myself off the floor with my uninjured arm. This familiarity with injuries meant I was prepared for anything. I grabbed a wrist splint from the bathroom and a frozen water bottle from the kitchen before leaving; I could still catch the 5:55 bus.

Outside, it was fairly quiet, as usual. Most of the shops on this street closed at 5 like I did. It was a charming area, with odd little shops tucked into picturesque townhouses, and was a draw for both the local residents and Seattle's tourists. _Of course, if Edward Cullen has his way, we'll all be gone so he can put another fancy mall in its place_, I thought sourly. _Or a bunch of multi-million dollar condominiums. Or a skyscraper._

To me, it didn't matter what he wanted to put here. I wasn't selling. This place had been my home for two years. Not just a house or a bookstore, a home. And I wasn't about to give it up so quickly.

Lost in my thoughts, the arrival of the bus took me by surprise. My store really was in the perfect location. The bus stop was only a block away, which was great considering I couldn't drive. The only thing that would have made it better was being on the same route as the University of Washington. It wasn't, so it took me two transfers and at least 30 minutes to get there.

I took a seat on the bus, starting when a man sat down next to me. He had gotten onto the bus with me, but I hadn't really noticed him. He wasn't the type of man you noticed. Unlike Edward Cullen.

_Edward Cullen_. All afternoon I had been grateful for the distractions. It allowed me time to try to forget our meeting and the kiss that had followed it. _He's not exactly the sort of man you forget, Bella_, my subconscious informed me smugly. It was true, he wasn't. I just couldn't figure out exactly what had happened.

I went over the meeting in my head again. _Okay, he came to try to bully me into selling the bookstore. And then he met 'Angela'. And then he kissed her. And I thought that was just another underhanded way to persuade me to sell, but then…_my face heated as I thought of what had happened next.

He had said he wanted me…Angela…the person he had kissed. When I had denied that, he had shown me otherwise. But I didn't know why. He was…to put it simply, beautiful. Bronze hair, emerald eyes, tall, his body strong but not packed with excessive muscle. Why would he want me? I was, for lack of a better word, plain. Oh, I had good skin, but on my best day I could never be described as anything more than pretty. Not beautiful, not gorgeous, not striking.

_Well, sweetie, let me explain it to you_, my subconscious began again. She was really being annoying today. _Men don't have to find women beautiful to want to have sex with them. As long as they're not totally hideous, they're fine for a quick one night stand._

She was right, of course. I let my head fall forward, pressing my face to my hands to hide the redness that my face was currently infused with. The movement jarred my wrist, and I winced, reaching into my bag to retrieve the forgotten water bottle. Frosty drops of water fell onto my jeans as I held it to my wrist. This was the drill for sprains – ice and rest.

The bus pulled up to my first transfer stop, and I got off and stood under the little bus stop overhang. The next bus was due in a minute or two, which meant that I wouldn't be too late to my class.

The man who had sat next to me on the bus had also gotten off at this stop. Now he stood uncomfortably close to me. I inched away from him uneasily. This was a safe area, but there were a lot of nutcases in a big city like this. My father used to tell me I couldn't be too careful around strangers.

It was with no small amount of relief that I arrived at UW twenty minutes later. The strange man had made my second transfer also, but he hadn't gotten off at the UW stop. Not that it mattered too much; once I was here, there were swarms of students around.

I was only 20 minutes late to my first class, Shakespeare, but still, every eye in the classroom turned to me when I opened the door. I smiled weakly at the professor, who raised his eyebrows at me. I had had him before when I took Writings of the English Renaissance, and he was fair, but strict.

"Everything alright, Miss Swan?"

I nodded, "Yes, sorry Professor. This won't happen again."

"Alright, then, take a seat please."

I slid into my chair next to my only friend in the class – the _real_ Angela. She smiled in greeting, but frowned when I pulled my wrist splint out of my bag. "Bella, again? What'd you do this time?" she asked, keeping her voice to a whisper.

"Fell in my apartment," I answered, reaching back into my bag for a notebook. "It's just a sprain; trust me, I know."

"Oh, I believe you," she replied, her eyes flitting to my notebook. "Don't worry about that, you can have my class notes."

"Thanks, Ang," I grinned at her, before turning my attention to the professor. Today we were discussing _Troilus and Cressida_, and if I couldn't take notes, I at least wanted to listen closely to the lecture.

*****

The class ended far too quickly for my liking. I loved college, even if I could take only four classes a semester. I had tried once to take five, but the bookstore was a big responsibility, and it had all been too much. However, I was still confident I could graduate in 4 years. Every summer, I took two classes, and the English department had allowed me to substitute a few graduate classes for my undergraduate requirements. The evening classes fit better into my schedule.

I went to go walk out with Angela, but the professor stopped me before I could. "Bella? If I could have a word?"

"Umm, sure." Ang and I exchanged a look, before I shrugged and walked over to the lectern, where Professor Cook was shuffling through a handful of papers. He was a brilliant man, though a little eccentric at times. He wasn't the most organized either. "Is this about me being late? Because I promise, it won't happen again. I just had a customer stay past closing, and I missed my bus-"

"No, no, this isn't about that," Professor Cook interrupted. He finally pulled out a piece of paper from his stack with a triumphant flourish. "I wanted to talk to you about this – the five-year English master's program. You know the deadline for applying is coming up, don't you? And since I run the program, I know you haven't applied yet."

"Right. Well…I just don't know. I mean, I've thought about it-"

"Bella," he interrupted again. "One of the benefits of being in the Honors Program is that you're basically guaranteed to get in. Plus, you're one of my top students. Don't tell anyone I said this," he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "but I can tell you right now, you'll get in."

"I appreciate that," I said, shifting uncomfortably at his praise. "But you know about the bookstore. I can't take five classes now, and my schedule is pretty much made up depending on what classes are offered during the times I can come here. I thought the fifth year is pretty set in its schedule."

"Well, it is, but Bella? I really think you could gain a lot from this program. I know you're already taking a few graduate classes now, but as a full time graduate student you'd be able to take _all_ your classes with people who are more on your level. I know that this material doesn't really challenge you."

He handed me the five-year information sheet. "Think about it, alright? And here's your _King John_ paper. I gave them back at the beginning of class," he handed me the thick document. "Excellent work, as usual."

"Thank you, Professor. I'll think about it," I said, fleeing the classroom before he could say anything else.

Outside, Angela was waiting for me. "What did he say?" she demanded.

"He just gave me back my paper," I replied, holding it up. "And he asked if I was applying to the master's program."

"Are you?" she asked, as we began heading in the direction of my next class. Angela didn't take it, but she always walked with me. "I am. It's a great opportunity, Bella."

"I don't know. I'd like to, but you know, the bookstore…"

"Okay, Bella," she abruptly stopped, turning to face me. I looked back at her intense face and steeled myself for what she was about to say. "I know you love the bookstore. And you don't even need to get your degree, since you own a business and everything. But this program is going to be so amazing. Professor Cook is running it, and it's really selective, and you know you can get in!"

I sighed. "It's not that simple. I'm trying to make the store a success, so I can't reduce the hours there any more than I already have. And then there's that developer who wants to buy it. I know it's ridiculous, but I feel like if I'm not there, there's no one to stop him from just bulldozing it out from under me."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," I answered.

"This developer is offering you a lot of money for the store, right? So why don't you take it, enjoy college, and then buy another place when you're ready? Bella, you're twenty years old! You should be having fun!"

"I love the bookstore, Ang," I replied stiffly, starting to walk again. Angela followed me, but I didn't look at her. How could she suggest selling? Didn't she know I needed that place?

"I know, Bella, but it kind of ties you down, right? This is the time to be free, to do different things. To figure out what you really want to do."

"I already know what I want to do," I reminded her.

"And the bookstore's great, Bella. But seriously, you're going to turn down Cook's personal invitation to be in the master's program to run it? I don't get it."

I sighed, trying not to get upset. Angela was my friend, and she was only looking out for me. She knew how much I'd like to be in the five-year program. "I'll think about it, Ang. I might still apply."

"Good," she beamed at me. "Because I think it'll be great." We had arrived at my next class, a graduate course, Literature of the British Archipelago. She handed me her notebook. "Here are my notes for today. You can give it back to me next time." She hesitated. "Or you can meet up with me after your class now. We can hang out in my room, and I can type them up and email them to you."

I smiled. Angela always wanted to do something after my night classes, but by the time they ended at 10, I had to get back to my apartment and do my piles of homework. But it was still nice of her to ask. "Another time, okay?" I said, taking the notebook from her. "Too much to do."

Her smiled dimmed a little, but she nodded, and I tried to push back my guilt at the sight. I knew I was a bad friend, never available when she asked, but I couldn't help it.

Jamie, a guy from my next class had paused at the classroom's entrance. We were friends of a sort, but he was so focused on taking my spot at the top of the class, it made things difficult. "Bella, are you coming?"

My next class was about to start. "Thanks for the notes, Ang. I'll call you later, okay?" She nodded again, and I followed Jamie into class.

*****

That night, I lay in bed, icing my wrist and thinking about what Angela had said. She wasn't entirely wrong.

The bookstore was great, but having such a big responsibility at my age was difficult at times. I couldn't always do what I wanted – like take five classes, or live at UW. Weekends were spent working. And now, here I was, trying to take on the business tycoon of Seattle, with no one to help me.

But still, the bookstore had been my salvation for the past few years. My mother had left my father during my sophomore year of high school, and my home life had quickly turned into a nightmare. My previously caring father had turned into an angry drunk, and my mother had moved over 1,000 miles away to be with her new boyfriend.

I had thought that one day, I would be able to re-establish relationships with both of them. Charlie would stop drinking, and Renee would finally grow up. But five years later, there wasn't any sign of that happening with Charlie. And my mother, my sweet, flaky mother, had died in a car accident two months after leaving.

Her life insurance and a settlement from the accident, held in trust for me until my 18th birthday, had enabled me to move away from Forks and buy the bookstore. My father had barely noticed when I left. It was my home now. And Edward Cullen was trying to take it from me.

His face appeared in my mind again, and I shivered. He was such a beautiful, forbidding man. I didn't know if I could stand up to him. _About what?_ My subconscious was back. _The bookstore, or your __**virtue**__? _she asked snarkily.

_Shut up!_ I answered back. Great, now I was having a conversation with myself. Again. _Both. I can do it._

_Sweetie, why would you want to? _she asked back. _He looks like he'd be good at it. Actually, I'm sure he'd be good at it. Sooo good…_

_Yeah, from sleeping around with half the city! _I argued fiercely. _My virginity isn't going to be another mark on his bedpost._

I nodded to myself, trying to solidify that statement in my mind. _Edward Cullen is not for you. If he comes around again, you will be strictly professional. _I nodded again.

_No you won't, no you won't, _my subconscious taunted. _Who could resist him? Certainly not you._

I pulled my pillow over my head, trying to drown out my inner voice. He wasn't for me. And I _could_ do this. I could resist him, save my bookstore, apply for the UW master's program. I _could_.

My resolve strengthened, I put my icepack on the floor and turned out the lights to go to sleep.

* * *

**More background, I know. But I think that's important. And the next chapter will probably have some B and E interaction. _Probably_. I'm not much of a planner.**

**_Please review._**


	5. The Second Meeting

**So, before this chapter begins, I'd like to respond to a theme I've been noticing in some of my reviews. Several people have commented (in a positive way) that both Edward and Bella are two strong personalities. This is my intention. I'm not so much a fan of a worshipful Bella. Bella will not be a weak character in this story, she will have her own personality and interests. I'm not quite sure yet how things will be going in the bedroom, but I assure you, even if Bella is more submissive there, she will still remain a strong character in all other ways. I **_**really, really**_** dislike it when Bella is a weak character.**

**Thank you to everyone who's reviewed so far, and a special thanks to those who have reviewed multiple chapters! Please leave a review if you like the story! They really do help to inspire me.**

**I've begun to put Bella and Edward's outfits on my profile. Go see!**

**This story is rated M for a reason! So all children, please leave now. Go find another story to read.**

**Of course, Twilight and all the characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.**

* * *

It was a beautiful Wednesday morning on the Puget Sound. Unusual for November, not that I was complaining. I leaned against the ferry railing, enjoying the cool breeze as the ferry made its way toward Seattle. I had elected to stay at my home on Vashon Island last night. Typically I stayed in Seattle during the week; I kept an apartment for just that purpose.

But the island made a soothing place to think. Last night, I had sat outside on the deck, planning to relax and do that. Only the occasional splash interrupted my thoughts there. But, all had not gone according to plan.

I normally enjoyed the silence, but last night, I had been conscious of a feeling of restlessness, boredom. The house seemed _too_ quiet. I had wandered the expansive space aimlessly, ultimately ending up in the family room watching a Seahawks game. But the feeling of dissatisfaction lingered.

It wasn't as though I couldn't have been doing something else. I had been invited to several charity events last night. I could have visited my parents. Or my brother. Gone out with and taken home one of the many women I had met at a fundraiser last weekend.

But no, instead I had gone to Vashon for a quiet evening. Now all I had to show for it was the soreness in my back from falling asleep on the couch.

I looked out at the water again, as Tyler appeared at my elbow. In his hand was the thermos of coffee I'd left in the car.

"Thank you, Tyler," I took the thermos from him, taking a long drink before looking back out at the sound.

"No problem, Mr. Cullen." He took a spot at the rail next to me. "Long night?"

Tyler was used to me keeping unusual hours. He picked me up early, drove me home late, and often was delegated to buy coffee when a particular project had kept me up long into the night.

"No," I finally replied. "Not in that way. Just didn't find the quiet night I was looking for."

"Ahh," he nodded in understanding. "The storm, then?"

I shook my head, "Not that, either. You know…" I turned to look at Tyler. He was nine years older than I, and had turned into somewhat of a confidante in the years he had been working for me. Not that he was particularly interested in my business dealings or anything of the sort, but he was a blunt speaker and had proven he would tell me things others wouldn't. "You know," I began again. "It was quiet. I enjoyed the storm, as always. But it wasn't peaceful. The quiet. It was…I don't know."

"Would you like my opinion, Mr. Cullen?" he asked politely. Like he wasn't going to tell me regardless.

"Go ahead," I sighed, taking another drink of my coffee.

"To me, there didn't seem anything atypical about the house last night." Tyler had stayed in the apartment above the garage last night rather than go home to his house in Seattle. "It was just as it always is. It's a quiet place. I enjoyed it. I called my daughter. I watched the game. I went to bed early." He nodded. "It's a beautiful home. As you know." I did know. "Though I will say that it's been much quieter since Miss Jessica left. And I daresay you'd agree."

And there it was. The real reason I hadn't enjoyed the island last night.

I hadn't been spending much time there in the last month. But before I ended my relationship with Jessica, she had typically accompanied me to Vashon. And before her, Victoria. And before Victoria, Tanya.

Not that I particularly missed any of them. Jessica…well, after the way we ended things, definitely not. As for Victoria and Tanya…my high degree of sexual compatibility with both women had not extended to anything past friendship outside the bedroom. They were both in long-term relationships now, and I was happy for them. But it was true that it was unusual for me to spend time on the island alone.

Nevertheless, I shrugged at Tyler's statement. Just because I could admit certain things to myself did not mean I could discuss them with anyone else. "I'm quite pleased to not have Jessica around, considering the ways things ended."

"Of course, Mr. Cullen." I thought that was the end of the conversation; yet considering how long Tyler had been around, I should have known better. Though even I wasn't prepared for what he said next. "But I have to say, it has been a long time since you've been with a woman. Especially by your standards."

I promptly choked on my coffee. Dark brown drops of liquid spewed from my mouth, falling to dot the ground around my feet. A few landed on my perfectly shined shoes. Tyler pounded me on the back, as I coughed and gasped for air. As my choking fit subsided, I held up a hand in a signal for Tyler to stop. He did, his expression a bit abashed as he watched me run the hand across my mouth, wiping away a few remaining drops of the previously enjoyable coffee.

"What the _fuck_, Tyler?" I wheezed, still trying to catch my breath. "Don't say shit like that to me when I have something in my mouth!"

"My apologies, Mr. Cullen," he said blandly. I had the sneaking suspicion he was trying not to laugh. "So, then…"

"Yes?" I asked shortly, trying to regain my composure with another long swallow of coffee.

"Will we be visiting the bookstore again today? Perhaps you can resolve this situation with that disagreeable young woman."

I started choking on my coffee again, as Tyler's dam broke and he howled with laughter. The other passengers on the deck stared at the two of us, as I pointed at Tyler and wheezed out, "You…are _fired_!"

Tyler's laughter didn't subside any, in fact, he only laughed harder. I typically fired him at least once a week.

*********

An hour later, I stepped off the elevator to my company's offices. As usual, Rosalie was waiting for me. She raised an eyebrow at my coffee-stained appearance but said nothing, instead following me into my office and pulling out a suit and shirt from my private closet. She held it out to me silently as I snatched the hangers from her hand, stalking into my private bathroom to change.

When I came out five minutes later, now dressed in clean clothes, Rosalie was still waiting for me. In one hand she held a pair of clean shoes, in the other, an email. I took the shoes from her, sitting down on my couch to put them on as she studiously avoided looking my way, keeping her eyes fixed on the email, ostensibly for the purpose of reading it. I knew better. Rosalie had probably already read that email five times, _and_ memorized its contents. Still, the illusion of privacy was gratifying as I finished restoring my clothing.

When I stood up, my appearance once again in order, Rosalie lifted her eyes to mine and held out the email, waiting as I quickly scanned its contents.

_Edward,_

_I have an initial report on the bookstore, but I have to warn you it's just the **very **__preliminary findings, nothing much. Would you like to see it today, or would you prefer to wait for more information on Friday?_

_Jasper_

I looked back at Rose once I finished the email, finally speaking my first words since stepping off the elevator. "What time can Jasper meet today?"

*****

Jasper arrived at 10:30 for our mid-morning meeting, as punctual as ever. Sitting down in the chair opposite mine, he laid down a thin folder on my desk as he pulled several pages of handwritten notes out of his briefcase.

I opened the folder without hesitation, leafing through the few sheets within. I pulled out the top sheet and began reading, as Jasper leaned toward me and saw what I was looking at.

"Ah, the record of the sale from the bank. You can see it was paid for in full by a Ms. Isabella Swan."

I nodded. I already knew who had bought the property, though I didn't realize it had been fully paid for at the time of sale. I flipped to the next page. More bank records on the property. As was the next…and the next. I put the papers back and closed the folder. "I already knew most of this, Jazz."

"I did warn you that these are very preliminary findings, Edward. The investigator also did some more searching that didn't yield any results. For example, a _friend_ of his," he coughed. "-at the DMV looked up Isabella Swan and found that she does not hold a Washington driver's license, nor are there any vehicles registered to her in this state. Besides, there's some more information here," he waved the papers he was holding at me. "And the investigator will be coming in Friday to detail his findings to you in person. Right now, he's watching the bookstore."

"Excellent," I said, holding out my hand for the papers he was holding. Jasper shook his head. "It will be more expeditious for me to tell you what they say. I'm afraid our investigator, Mr. Jenks, does not have the world's neatest handwriting." He placed the papers down on my desk as he began to detail their contents to me. "So, we put him on the bookstore immediately following our meeting Monday. He watched fourteen people go into the store Monday afternoon, including one gentleman who entered the store shortly before closing and exited almost a half-hour after the store's 5:00pm closing time."

"A half-hour after closing due to some personal connection with the store?" I asked. "Or just another customer?"

"Mr. Jenks believes it was just another customer; he watched him browse through the bookstore windows, and he carried several bags when he left. He also didn't speak to the salesgirl beyond the check-out process." I nodded, and Jasper continued. "A young woman then left the store at 5:45pm. I'm assuming this is the young woman you met. Brown hair and eyes, young, early twenties from his assessment, red sweater, jeans, sneakers, carrying a backpack."

I shook my head, recalling our encounter. "I suppose it could be the same person. She had brown hair and brown eyes, but she wore a skirt and flats, not jeans and sneakers. The sweater's the same, though."

"Alright, so let's assume it's the same girl. Angela, right? He got on the same bus as her and followed her through two transfers. He thought toward the end she was catching on to him, so he didn't follow her when she got off at the University of Washington stop. Instead, he went back to the bookstore and sat on it until she came back shortly after 11pm."

"Wait," I stopped him. "The same woman – Angela – came back at night? For what purpose?"

"I'm getting to that," he replied, flipping over to the next page. "So, she entered through the bookstore's main door, but the lights didn't go on in the bookstore. Instead, they went on upstairs – the upper level used as a private apartment."

I frowned. "As an apartment? It's not something related to the bookstore, like storage?"

Jasper shook his head. "No, there's a lower level that we're assuming is used for that. At least, Jenks tracked down the old guy who used to run the jewelry repair business before the bookstore took its place. He said the lower level was for storage and the upper one is a fully functional apartment, accessible from a storeroom in the back of the bookstore. And as far as Jenks can tell, the woman lives there. She left from it yesterday morning to go back to UW, and he never saw her leave Monday night."

I shook my head. "Why would Angela live above the bookstore, especially if she's a student at UW? Why not live on campus?"

Jasper shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe Swan gives her free rent in exchange for working? Or something? But anyway, yesterday, the bookstore was closed. The girl leaves from the property at 8:30am. This time, Jenks follows her in his car, back to the University of Washington. She takes two English classes, one at 10 and one at 12, then meets with a study group from the second class. She left campus at shortly after 5."

"Back to the bookstore?"

Jasper nodded. "Yeah. But Jenks also stopped one of her classmates when the first class ended. Asked Angela's last name. It's Webber. So he tried to get her information from the registrar's office, but they wouldn't give it out. Cited privacy of student records. So he's going to have her checked out with his DMV friend, and get the school information through an…uhm," he coughed again. "_Alternative_ method, he called it. I guess that's investigator's code for hacking into the school's computers."

"If that's what he feels is necessary," I replied. "So he's watching the store now?"

"Opened at 10 this morning. Same woman. Angela Webber, I assume. Didn't come in any entrance as far as Jenks can tell, so he's still thinking she lives there. Didn't leave last night either."

"So Angela lives and works at the bookstore, and we still have no idea who Isabella Swan is." I sighed. "Well, it's more than we had before. Anything else?"

Jasper shook his head no. "That's all we have so far, but there should be more on Friday. And Jenks will be here to tell you about it himself. Unless you'd prefer for him to watch the store over the weekend, and come in Monday?"

Clearly this is what Jasper would have preferred, to give Jenks for time and possibly get more information. I considered it briefly, but I'm not the type that enjoys delayed gratification. "No. We can always have him watch over the weekend if more information is needed."

"Alright then." Jasper handed me all the papers he brought. "I have copies in my office, so you can keep these. I'll type up the notes and send them to you as well."

"Thank you, Jasper," I took them from him, putting them aside for Rose to file. "This is good work. We should be able to track down Ms. Swan shortly."

Jasper nodded before taking his leave, and I leaned back in my chair and pulled up my afternoon schedule. I pressed the intercom button for Rose, waiting a few seconds before she answered.

"Yes, Mr. Cullen?"

"Rose, change of plans. Cancel my meeting at 1, and reschedule it for tomorrow. There's somewhere I need to be."

*****

So it was shortly after 1 that Tyler pulled up to the bookstore. Thankfully, this time he didn't make any comments about "resolving the situation with that disagreeable young woman". I still didn't know what he had been referring to this morning – my nonexistent sex life, or the business situation with Square 20. I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

Tyler opened the car door for me, and I stepped out, surveying the area. I easily spotted the investigator's car. He was sitting in the front seat, eating a sandwich and talking on the phone. When he spotted me, his eyes widened and he abruptly closed the phone. I nodded in his direction once before crossing the street to the familiar gray townhouse. I mounted the steps for the second time in three days and pushed open the door, now prepared for the irritating noise that announced my arrival. But this time, no one was behind the counter, kneeling or otherwise.

I looked around, but there was no Angela. No voice called out to tell me she'd be right with me. Deciding she was likely in the back, I decided to use the opportunity to evaluate the bookstore. The counter divided the bookstore in two, with shelves of books on both sides. I went to the left, entering the narrow aisle. Books went almost all the way to the ceiling. Chairs were shoved in corners, as were tiny tables. I guess with a fairly small space, you had to utilize every inch. Small signs above the shelves read "Fiction" in neat, handwritten letters. Fiction took up most of the left side, with maybe a quarter left for poetry. No effort had been made to further sort the books by category. I supposed people asked for help.

The right side was built in a similar way to the left, except with a more diverse offering of categories. This was the nonfiction side. One small section read "Antiques", then there was "Architecture", "Art", and "Biographies". I stopped to look over the biography section, pulling out a book on Samuel Cooper. Perhaps Jasper would enjoy this; the Confederate Army had been his thesis topic in college. I flipped through the book, it was worn, but still in good readable condition. Then I paused. I was trying to put this place out of business and I was buying books here? I went to go put the book back, but the space where it had been had disappeared, the shelf so packed that other books had immediately filled the emptiness. I looked at the shelf, trying to determine how books were arranged, until I saw a small sign in between shelves. "Please Do Not Reshelf Books".

Shrugging, I placed the book on a table and moved on. "Body, Mind, & Spirit", "Cooking", "Foreign Language", "History", "Mathematics", and "Music". I paused in front of the music section, wanting desperately to stop and browse.

There was no denying this store had a uniquely intriguing selection. I forced myself to continue. "Nature", "Philosophy", "Photography". A new shelf marked "Political Science", "Religion", "Science", "Social Science", and "Travel".

There were a lot of categories here. As a result, each section was limited in its space. Maybe I could pay Isabella Swan to find another location. Surely she'd like a bigger store to house all these books.

I was still in the nonfiction section when I heard the lightest patter of feet on the hardwood floors, but no irritating bell, indicating someone was coming out from the back room. I moved swiftly, turning to hide myself but still see the desk as Angela came into view. She was dressed more casually today, in a thin gray tee-shirt and dark jeans. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and was that a - I squinted at her arm. Was that a splint on her tiny wrist? What had happened?

She carried a large pile of books that she swiftly dropped. She sat down on a chair behind the counter. It appeared as though she was entering them into the computer. I watched for a few minutes. Was this her system – entering each book separately? That had to be very time consuming.

I waited until she was absorbed in her task, then I moved out from behind the shelves, making each step loud and deliberate. She looked up at the noise, her eyes widening when she spotted me.

"Mr. Cullen," she stood up from her chair. I suppose this made her feel on a more equal footing, but she was so small that it didn't make much of a difference. "What a surprise." I noted with silent amusement that she didn't say the surprise was pleasant. "Is there something I can help you with?"

I shrugged, smiling calming back at her blank face. "Just doing some browsing. What are you doing there?"

She looked down at the pile of books on her desk. "Inventory today. I enter each book when I get them so I can track them down. Usually I know where they are, but it's always helpful to have a system."

"You know where all these books are? Every single one?" I couldn't keep the disbelief out of my voice. There must be thousands of books in the store.

Her narrow chin went up at my tone. "I try to," she replied. "If there's ever the event that I can't, that's why I have my database. I also keep a lot of books in the back. So this way I can know what we have. And it's good for our website."

"Your website?"

"Yes." She turned the computer screen to face me, pulling up the store's website. "We keep an online inventory, so people trying to track down a book can see if the store has it. I fill a lot of online orders as well."

"Hmm," I looked at the screen. This operation may be more profitable than I initially thought.

She turned the screen away, sitting and returning to her inventory. I remained in my spot, staring at her, waiting to see how long it would take for her to snap. A rosy flush quickly filled her face and the skin made visible by the v-neck of her shirt. Her fingers began hitting the computer keys with more force. Finally, she turned and looked back at me, her brown eyes narrowed.

"Are you waiting for something in particular? This is a bookstore. Browse, buy, or read. Or leave. Staring at me is not one of your options."

I turned back into the nonfiction aisle, picking up the biography I had previously discarded. I brought it back to the counter. "I'd like to purchase this."

She took the book from me, her face lighting up in interest at the cover. I had the feeling that normally she would offer some commentary on the book, but with me, she remained silent. She rang it up for me.

"That'll be $22.00."

I pulled my wallet out from my pocket, paying with two twenties. She counted out change for me, then reached for the book, placing it in a small _Ren's Books _brown paper bag. She handed me the bag and my change. "Thank you for your purchase. Have a nice day," her melodic voice rang out, as she turned back to her inventory, ignoring me once again.

"What happened to your wrist?" I asked abruptly.

She looked down at her arm. "Oh. I tripped." She shrugged, a wry smile lighting up her face. I took it in hungrily – this was the first time she'd smiled around me since learning who I was. "I'm very clumsy, unfortunately."

She reached with her uninjured wrist for another book to enter, and I stopped her, placing my large hand over her smaller one. Her skin felt wonderfully soft. She froze at my touch, looking up at me with widening brown eyes, like a deer caught in headlights. She tried to tug her hand away, but I wouldn't let go, relishing the feel of her skin against mine.

Her lips parted. I knew she understood what I wanted. She tensed further, continuing to watch me with large eyes as I brought her wrist up to my face.

I placed a single kiss on her palm. She shivered, her fingers relaxing a bit and reaching out tentatively to stroke my face as I moved further down her arm, placing tiny kisses on her wrist and the smooth, pale flesh of her inner arm.

I could feel tremors moving through her as I used the captive wrist to guide her out from behind the counter, to where I was standing. She felt even smaller standing next to me, her fragile body better outlined today by the casual clothes she was wearing.

Mindful of her injury, I grasped her by her hips to lift to the counter in front of me. But instead, almost of their own volition, my hands slid from her hips to underneath her tee shirt, exploring the silky bare skin of her stomach. _So soft._ She was still relaxed under my hands, but I could feel her begin to stiffen as my hands moved further upward.

Ever the strategist, I immediately leaned down to distract her with a kiss. Initially keeping the kiss light, I slowly moved my hands back down to her hips as I allowed my tongue to press against the seam of her lips. Having learned from last time, her lips quickly parted for me, allowing my tongue to steal inside as my hands moved to her ass.

The kiss did its job, allowing me to explore the curves of her ass without interruption. Like the rest of her, it was small, but still perfect and firm. Her jeans were thin; it was almost as though I was touching her without clothing. I finally gripped her ass and lifted her up to the counter. She was so light. It took no effort at all to boost her up, and I allowed myself a split second to enjoy this advantage of her small frame.

I settled her on the counter, standing between her legs, and withdrew my lips from hers. She looked up at me, her dark eyes wavering between confusion and pleading as I smiled at her before leaning down, tucking a stray strand of silky hair behind her ear.

"You want more?" I asked, keeping my lips still at her temple, enjoying the smell of her shampoo floating up to my nose. She smelled like coffee and berries, sweet and dark at the same time.

I felt the movement against my lips as she nodded. One dainty hand came up to twine itself in my hair as I moved down to the fragile curve of her ear. I nibbled lightly on the lobe and she gasped, the grip her fingers had in my hair tightening. I placed one kiss under her ear, as my lips traced a path down the sensitive flesh of her neck. Like the rest of her, it was pale, smooth, and unblemished. I had every intention of changing that.

I buried my nose in the crook of her neck and inhaled. She smelled so sweet. "You smell delicious, Angela," I whispered, sucking at the spot where her neck meets her shoulder. Hard enough to leave a mark. Now everyone will know she is mine. "I've been thinking about you since we met." I pulled away from her neck, relishing the sight of the bruise forming on her neck. There was no mistaking it for anything other than what it was. "Have you been thinking about me?"

She only moaned, her head falling back as a blush spread across her cheeks and down her neck. The sight of that blush was beautiful. So sweet.

I captured her lips in another kiss. This time, I don't hold back, taking control over the kiss as I felt her try to wrestle it back. "Do you feel what you do to me?" I asked her, pressing my hips fully into hers. "Do you feel how much I want you?" She only whimpered against my lips. "I want you, Angela. Very much."

I stayed where I was, kissing her forcefully as she writhed against me. When I finally pulled away, she was left gasping for air.

For a moment, I watched her try to regain her composure. She was simply stunning this way. Her face was flushed, her chest rapidly rising and falling as she took in deep gulps of air. Her previously neat ponytail had fallen around her shoulders in a tangled, sexy mess. She noticed me looking and flushed further, her head falling forward as she avoided looking back at me.

I grasped her chin, pulling her face back up to look into her eyes. "Would you like to have dinner tonight, Angela?" It's best to strike while the iron is still hot.

"Dinner?" she murmured back. I smiled down at her persuasively. I've been told I'm dazzling this way. "Dinner? With you?"

"I'd prefer it to be with me, yes," I replied, still smiling. I watched as her pupils dilated, and knew the effect was working. "Would you like that?"

She appeared almost in a stupor as her head began to bob up and down, nodding. I knew I should feel guilty for dazzling her, but unsurprisingly, I didn't. As I told Jasper earlier, any means necessary.

"Wonderful," I said smoothly, beginning to back toward the door before she can change her mind. "I'll pick you up at 7."

I turned to exit, then heard a cry behind me. "Wait!"

I turned back and groaned silently. The spell has broken, I could tell. _Of course, the one impervious woman…_I stalked back to Angela, still sitting on the counter. She was shaking her head and muttering something to herself. It sounded almost like _resist_, over and over.

"No," she held out the forgotten paper bag to me, containing Jasper's book. Her head was still shaking back and forth. "No dinner."

"Why not?" I asked her silkily, keeping my voice low and even as I took the bag. No good ever came from yelling.

"I…I…I _can't_. No. I'm sorry."

I smiled at her. Her eyes widened at the sight. Maybe she was not so resistant after all. But I didn't get this far in life not knowing that sometimes a strategic retreat is needed. "Another time, then."

I didn't give her time to say no, taking my exit swiftly. When I was safely outside, I allowed myself to turn around. Angela was visible through the glass panes of the front door. She was still sitting on the counter. As I watched, she brought her fingers up to her lips, tracing them lightly in what looked like wonder.

I smiled, opening the car door before Tyler could and swinging myself into the backseat. "Back to the office!" I told Tyler, grinning in triumph. He gaped back at me, as he started the car and we pulled away.

* * *

**You guys didn't really think Bella was going to give in so easily, did you? Have a little faith in me!**

**So, B and E time, as promised. And the big reveal that we're all anticipating (including me)? Should be coming soon...but not too soon.**

**_Please review._**


	6. The Melancholy

**Okay, so I know I suck. Two weeks turned into two months - for that I apologize. Writer's block is hard. For that reason, this chapter covers a lot of the last from Bella's POV - I just couldn't think of anything else to write! It won't be something I do often.**

**Thank you to everyone who's reviewed so far. The response to the last chapter was awesome. Please leave a review if you like the story! They really do help to inspire me (even if it does not seem that way at the moment). Trust me, without those reviews, this wouldn't be up before March.**

**Happy New Year to everyone!**

**Does it really need saying that I do not own Twilight?**

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I awoke Wednesday morning in a bad mood. I wasn't sure why – the sun was shining outside, I had just gotten in a new shipment of books, and I hadn't heard from Edward Cullen in two days. I stumbled out of bed at 8am; the shop didn't open until 10, but was always something for me to do. As I padded into the kitchen, still in my pajamas, I ran over them in my head. _Inventory, my application for the master's program, reading for tonight's classes…_The list went on and on.

I popped some frozen waffles in the toaster for my breakfast. Unfortunately, this was one of the few things I had in common with typical college students – I couldn't cook. Angela had told me that she and her roommate ordered in all the time. I tried not to do that. Having food delivered could quickly get expensive in Seattle. But the alternative to that was mostly frozen foods. Or learning to cook. I had a stack of cookbooks in my kitchen, just waiting to be read, but I hadn't gotten around to it yet. Oh well, it was on the list.

I filled a glass with orange juice and retrieved a bottle of syrup from the refrigerator, placing them on the kitchen table just as the waffles finished toasting. I pulled out a plate from the cabinet – that was something, at least, that I used real plates over paper – and sat down at the table to eat breakfast. Opening my copy of _Antony and Cleopatra_, part of my work for today's Shakespeare class, I read as I ate. It was one of my favorite works of Shakespeare - even if the Cleopatra was histrionic at times, in my opinion, she was one of Shakespeare's best female characters.

I finished breakfast and cleaned up the table, setting aside my play to bring downstairs and read later. My glass and plate went in the dishwasher, the orange juice and syrup returned to the refrigerator. I frowned at the bare shelves. It was never really fully stocked, but today it looked even emptier than usual. I mentally added grocery shopping to my list.

When the kitchen was cleared, I walked into the bathroom to brush my teeth. Like the rest of the apartment, it was sparsely decorated but clean. After living with Charlie's mess of beer bottles for the three years following my mother's death, it was very important to me that _my_ space not be that way. While Martha Stewart might frown at my mismatched towels, no one could claim the apartment was in any way dirty.

I dressed for the day, keeping in mind the day's task of inventory and pulling on jeans and a tee shirt. I tried to dress more business-like most days, though I wasn't really sure why I bothered. It wasn't like my customers cared, and certainly there was no dictate coming down from the boss. I giggled at the thought, which turned into full-fledged laughter as I examined the thought further.

Edward Cullen thought I had a boss. And while I wasn't under the illusion that my deception could last forever, it amazed me that after _months _of trying, no one had figured out the truth. Was everyone who worked for him a complete idiot?

*****

By lunchtime, I had finished my application and my reading for tonight, and turned my attention to inventory. Since I kept sold such a wide assortment of books, most of them second-hand, I entered every book into the computer by hand. It was a good system, helping me to keep track of all the books, but it could take a long time. I was anticipating that this latest shipment would take at least the next few days to enter.

I made the trip down to the basement for my first pile of books, bringing them back up with me and dumping them on the front counter. Once they were entered, I stacked them neatly on the floor – some would go on the shelves, where there was room, and others would go back downstairs, organized this time. I repeated the process with a second pile of books, then a third. Apparently today would be a long, quiet day.

_Or not_, I amended, hearing loud footsteps moving about the store. Someone must have come in while I was downstairs. I looked up and there he was – Edward Cullen, stalking toward me with a predatory look on his face.

I stood instinctively, almost knocking my chair over in my haste as I greeted him coolly. _Why was he here?_ I asked the question aloud, and he claimed to be 'browsing'. I managed not to laugh at that one, as he asked what I was doing. _Wasn't it obvious?_

"Inventory today. I enter each book when I get them so I can track them down. Usually I know where they are, but it's always helpful to have a system."

"You know where all these books are? Every single one?" His voice said clearly that he didn't believe me. _God, what an irritating man!_

I lifted my chin as I met his gaze evenly. "I try to. If there's ever the event that I can't, that's why I have my database. I also keep a lot of books in the back. So this way I can know what we have. And it's good for our website."

"Your website?" _Seriously, another facet he doesn't know about? Did he even do any research before charging in here and trying to buy my store?_

"Yes." I turned the computer screen to face him, pulling up the website I had created. "We keep an online inventory, so people trying to track down a book can see if the store has it. I fill a lot of online orders as well."

"Hmm," was his noncommittal reply.

I turned the screen away, annoyed, returning to my inventory. Maybe if I ignored him he would just go away.

He didn't. He stayed in his spot, staring at me. I could feel my face heating and turning red as the silence lengthened. Finally I looked up at him.

"Are you waiting for something in particular? This is a bookstore. Browse, buy, or read. Or leave. Staring at me is not one of your options."

His eyes widened at my rather rude statement, while my subconscious cheered at my daring_. _Myvictory was short-lived, though, as he smiled at me before he turned into the nonfiction aisle and brought back a biography.

I took it from him, glancing at the cover. Hmm, I never would have figured him for a Civil War aficionado. If it were anyway else, I would ask, but not Edward Cullen. I rang him up and he paid for his book.

As I handed him the book and his change, I dismissed him with a "Thank you for your purchase. Have a nice day." Of course, he wasn't that easy to shake.

"What happened to your wrist?" he asked abruptly.

I looked down at my wrist, still in its splint. The sprain had been worse than I first thought. "Oh. I tripped." I shrugged. "I'm very clumsy, unfortunately."

I went to return to inventory, but a touch to my hand stopped me. I froze at the touch, looking up at Edward as his hand covered mine. _What is he doing?_ I tried to tug my hand away, but he was stronger and I couldn't pull free.

_Did I even want to?_ While he was an arrogant, conceited, dominating jackass at times, he was still one of the most magnetic men I had ever met. _Okay, the **most**__ magnetic._ Curiosity held me captive as I stopped trying to pull my hand free and just watched as he brought my wrist up to his mouth.

He placed one kiss on my palm. As I shivered from the sensation of his lips on my skin, he moved further down my arm, placing tiny kisses as he went. I wanted to touch him also, and I reached out to gently stroke his cheek, feeling the faintest hint of stubble along his smooth skin.

Suddenly I was moving, guided by Edward's gentle tugs around the counter, to stand in front of him. _How malapropos_, I thought to myself. He didn't strike me as the gentle type.

He let go of my wrist, his hands sliding down to my hips instead. Even through the barrier of my jeans, I could feel the heat of his hands. His hands held my hips lightly, then suddenly, and unexpectedly, slid under my shirt. _Bella! Bella! _My subconscious was screaming at me, but I ignored her. I hadn't been this close to anyone in so long. It was only when his hands started to move upward that my thoughts managed to break through the fog in my head, and I could feel myself tense under Edward's hands.

It seemed Edward felt it as well; his hands retreated and trailed back down to my hips. Then suddenly his lips were on mine, but not like the last time. Today, his kiss seemed…kinder. I allowed myself to enjoy it, not even reacting when his hands moved lower still, gripping my bottom firmly.

And then I was moving, my feet leaving the ground as Edward used his hold to lift me onto the counter. _Why is it that my feet never stay on the floor when he's around?_ His lips slid away from mine, and he leaned back, smiling at me when I looked up at him. His green eyes were dark as he bent back down, placing his lips on my temple.

"You want more?" he asked, his lips still. _Did I want more?_ I wasn't sure…but I found myself nodding anyway.

At my affirmative response, his head lowered…though not back to my mouth as I expected. His bronze hair flashed before my eyes as he moved to my ear. He had hair like liquid metal, and I reached out before I could think about it, running my hand through the wild strands. His hair was soft…wild…I clenched my fingers in it as I felt him nibble lightly at the sensitive flesh of my ear. I had never felt anything like this before.

He dropped one last kiss before making his way further down, to the place where my neck met my shoulder. I could hear him inhale, taking me in. _Crap! Doing inventory for hours…I probably smell gross…and sweaty…and then he'll never come back…which is what I want…right? But still!_

But his next words reassured me. "You smell delicious, Angela," he whispered. The name 'Angela' was an icy shock to my system, reminding me once again that he didn't know me and I didn't know him. But that thought, like every other, was forgotten as his lips touched my neck and he drew the sensitive skin into his mouth, licking and sucking at it…_hard_. For the first time, pain mingled with the pleasure, and I felt hesitation rise – should I tell him to stop? But I couldn't…I could only gasp, as the two sensations blended, until they were almost one.

He pulled back from my neck, something new gleaming in his eyes. It looked almost like…satisfaction? "I've been thinking about you since we met," his voice was smooth, seductive, a balm to my confused senses. "Have you been thinking about me?"

_Yes…of course…how could I not? _But I said nothing, not wanting to admit my weakness. Still, I could feel a blush growing as I held back the truth. I'm a terrible liar…even by omission.

He growled at my continued silence, swooping down and pressing his lips to mine again. This time, though, was like the first…he took control then, as he did now.

Since lifting me to the counter, he had been standing, bracketed between my legs, but he had kept his distance. Now, he took that last step, pressing his hips firmly into mine. "Do you feel what you do to me? Do you feel how much I want you?" I _could_ feel the evidence of his desire…through his expensive wool pants, he was hard and hot. And large...at least from what I knew of men. "I want you, Angela. Very much."

After a moment, he withdrew, pulling his body fully away from mine, and I tried to regain some semblance of dignity as I gasped for air. I noticed him watching, his eyes gently amused. Of course, _he_ had nothing to straighten up; he was perfectly together, as always. I ducked my head to avoid his gaze.

He wouldn't let me though, a negative murmur escaped his perfect lips before his hand reached out, pulling my face back up to look at him. "Would you like to have dinner tonight, Angela?"

"Dinner?" I asked. He smiled down at me winningly, and I could feel myself sigh a little. He really was a beautiful man. "Dinner? With you?" _Of course with him, Bella, who do you think it would be with? The Queen of England?_

He echoed my subconscious's thoughts with his reply. "I'd prefer it to be with me, yes." He was still smiling down at me. "Would you like that?"

I was nodding before he'd even finished his question. Dinner…with Edward Cullen.

"Wonderful," he said easily, beginning to make his way toward the door. "I'll pick you up at 7."

The distance between us finally allowed my thoughts to break through my head. _You're an idiot, Bella! Stop it! Do you know who this is? What happened to your plan? Do you think he's seriously interested in you? _He turned to leave, and I stopped him. "Wait!"

He spun around quickly, stalking back to me with that predatory look on his face. _Is that his permanent expression? It's actually kind of…appealing. No, Bella! Remember your plan!_ Right, the plan. Resisting. I murmured the word a few times under my breath, and when I look up, he was standing before me. I cast about frantically for something to say, before spotting his abandoned bag on the counter next to me. I picked it up and thrust it toward him.

"No. No dinner."

"Why not?" he asked silkily, his voice calm as he took the bag. _You see, Bella? He doesn't care!_

_Right, right, of course. Plus, he's trying to buy Ren's. He doesn't even know who you really are. _"I…I…I _can't_. No. I'm sorry." _It's for the best._

He smiled at me. "Another time, then." _What?_

Before I could say no, he left. As soon as the door slammed behind him, I brought my fingers up to my lips. They felt swollen. Evidence of my weakness. _But at least you managed to turn down his invitation._

I wasn't sure how long I sat on the counter. Eventually, the sound of the door opening jarred me out of my stupor, and I looked up to see an older woman enter. She stopped in surprise when she saw me in my place on the counter, and I quickly slid down, giving her a smile in welcome. She smiled back tentatively. _Great. Now all the customers are going to think I'm crazy._

I returned to my place behind the counter, seeing the current time on my computer. Two hours had passed since Edward Cullen's arrival. Perfect. I'd never finish the inventory at this rate. I sighed. "Let me know if you need me," I told the woman, who nodded, before I went into the back and down to the basement. I had things to do.

*****

Today, I managed to close the store on time, though there were still books waiting to be catalogued. I made my way up to my apartment quickly; I wanted to change and eat before class. Once I devoured an apple, I pulled on clean clothes - a navy striped sweater and grey jeans. My clothes from today were grimy from doing inventory.

Sitting on my bed so I wouldn't fall this time, I shoved my feet into a pair of yellow sneakers. I held my feet out in front of me idly, inspecting the cheery color. It wasn't exactly reminiscent of my mood today. I felt rather…melancholy. A continuation of my mood from this morning? The low after the high I reached from seeing Edward Cullen? I didn't know. Suddenly, I wished that I was the irresponsible type, the kind that skipped class when they didn't feel like going. I could skip class and…what did people do when they skipped? Probably sleep.

_But you're not that type, and you don't skip class_, I reminded myself, as I walked into the bathroom to wash my face. _Especially since you pay for school. _I flipped on the light, looked in the mirror, and instantly gasped at my reflection. There was a large, dark bruise on my neck. _What the hell?_ I raised my fingers to it tentatively, and realized what it was. _Damn that man!_

I flew back into my bedroom, hastily pulling out a jar of concealer. It was old, barely used, but hopefully it would work. I patted it onto the bruise, looking in the mirror to check my handiwork, and grimace. Hardly an improvement – now it just looked like I had makeup on my neck. I'd never been especially skilled at applying the stuff.

I frowned at my reflection, trying to pull my sweater up to cover my neck. It wasn't working. I huffed out an exasperated breath and grabbed my blue coat from my closet. There, covered. Now I was ready to go.

*****

I walked into Shakespeare on time today, though only just. Angela smiled a greeting at me as I slid into my chair. I gave a small smile back, pulling out my notebook for today's discussion. My reading done during a quiet period this morning, I was prepared. I opened my notebook, flipping through the sheets idly until I arrived at a fresh page. But the anticipation that usually filled me at the sight of perfectly clean pages just waiting to be filled with that day's class was conspicuously absent. I sighed to myself. It would have been nice to stay home today. Get some extra work done in the store, plus maybe an extra few hours of sleep. But I hadn't done that. I was here.

_Yes, such a good girl, aren't you, Bella, _my subconscious taunted. _Never do anything wrong, never step a foot out of line. So responsible, dependable…steady and boring. **That **__is what you are. Can't even skip class when you want to._

My teeth bit sharply into my lip at the suddenly brutal thoughts. Where had that come from?

_From me, sweetie_, my subconscious answered, with an air of mocking patience. _I am you, you know. Your deepest thoughts…desires…and the truth. Always the truth. You know I'm right._

At that moment, Angela happened to look in my direction. I stared blindly back at her as a frown crossed her face - I suppose at my arrested expression.

"Everything okay?" she mouthed silently. Professor Cook had just begun his lecture. I nodded, trying to pay attention to his words rather than my own illogical thoughts. But I found myself unable to concentrate, my focus turned inward instead.

Those thoughts weren't the truth. Where were they coming from? I was happy with my life, I really was. There was no denying it was difficult at times, but how many people got the chance to make so many of their dreams a reality at my age? The answer – not very many. I'd be a fool to give any of it up. In a few years I would be done with school, and could concentrate solely on the store. In the meantime – I could deal with it.

_Who are you trying to convince? _The voice was back. I shook my head frantically, but it wouldn't dissipate, instead continuing. _You know, you don't have to do everything at once. There's always fewer class, less bookstore hours…there's this thing called **options**__. You have them. I don't know why-_

I shook my head again, harder this time, as though the movement could eradicate my thoughts. It couldn't. All I had done was given myself a headache. I pressed my hand to my forehead and groaned silently, closing my eyes as my head fell forward.

When I looked back up, Angela was still staring at me, the look of concern growing. I ducked my head, embarrassed. My hair swung forward, effectively shielding my face from view. I toyed with a strand, twisting it back and forth between my fingers as I wrote a few notes. Then, to my horror, I heard my name being called.

I looked up to see Professor Cook smiling kindly at me. "Bella? Do you want to comment on the ideas that have been shared so far? Or perhaps add your own thoughts to our discussion?"

"I-I…umm…I…don't really have anything to add," I stuttered, caught off guard. "I-"

"Professor?" Angela suddenly called out, and his eyes moved over to her, away from me. "Something I found interesting - the character of Cleopatra…"

I didn't pay attention to the rest of Angela's words after the first few utterances, retreating back into my own world. When the light, clear tones of her voice disappeared, I looked back up, giving her a small smile of thanks. She nodded back briefly, her kind face earnest but solemn.

The class finally ended, thankfully, though, I wasn't called on again. As the class dispersed, I pulled my application for the master's program out of my bag and walked up to the front. Professor Cook was talking to another student that decided to stay behind – a rare occurrence, but a lucky break for me. I quickly dropped it on top of his other papers and made my way back to my desk. Angela had already left. I could feel myself wilt a little as I saw her empty desk. I didn't particularly want to talk about my strange behavior in class today…but did her absence mean she was angry with me? She did have to rescue me today, after all…

I walked out of the classroom and turned down the hallway to go to my next class. I had taken a few steps when I heard my name spoken.

"Bella," Angela called, stepping out from her position in the hallway's shadows. She hadn't gone after all. I turned to face her, adjusting my bag nervously when I saw her face. She didn't look angry, she looked…I would say _determined_ was the right word.

"Ang," I replied, moving over to the side of the hallway where she stood. "I thought you'd left."

The expression on her face changed to one of surprise at my words. "Why would I leave? We always walk to your next class together."

I shrugged, winding the strap of my bag around my finger and fixing my eyes on the floor as I spoke. "I thought maybe…you were…I mean, you did have to cover for me today. Thank you for doing that. I didn't mean to…well, thanks."

I chanced a look back up at her. She was staring at me reproachfully. "You don't have to _thank_ me, Bella. Friends help each other out, it's what they do." She linked my arm with hers and began hauling me down the hallway toward my next class. "You know what else friends do? They _talk_ to each other. What happened today in class?"

I shrugged again, Angela's arm through mine limiting my movements this time. "I can't be perfect all the time," I mumbled, avoiding the real question. "I just drifted off."

"Umm hmm," she hummed back, the few syllables still managing to convey her skepticism with my answer. "And you know what else?" She charged on, not waiting for my answer. "You look sad today. And tired."

I smiled weakly at her. "According to you, I always look tired."

"But today more so than usual," she insisted, still walking rapidly toward my next class. She came to an abrupt halt, the sudden stop catching me off guard. Still walking, I tripped over my sneakers, the ground flying up rapidly to meet me. Luckily, Angela's hold on my arm prevented my fall. "Whoa, Bella, try not to actually break any bones today." Once I regained my equilibrium, she let go of my arm, now standing in front of me, blocking my path. "Seriously, though, what's going on with you?"

I considered my options briefly. I could try to avoid this conversation – I pictured myself running around Angela and making a dash for my next class. But she'd probably catch up – she's taller and more athletic – not to even mention how juvenile that would be. I could lie – but we both knew I was a terrible liar. Or there was the truth – but what was the truth? _I_ didn't even know what was upsetting me. I could feel the foolish, unbidden tears rising to the surface, as I tried to think of a response for Angela.

"It's just…I guess…everything's closing in all at once," I heard the quiver in my voice as I spoke. Evidently Angela did also, taking a step closer in support. But I shook my head, retreating back from her. Any sympathy would make the precariously balanced cards of my life come crashing down. "There's just so much to do…decisions to make…people to fight…and I don't want to. I'm tired. I just want to be like everyone else. Enjoy a normal college life." I could hear the words tumbling out, but it was like I couldn't stop myself. "I could live in a dorm room. Hang out with friends. Have a boyfriend, and not kiss random guys who are trying to take everything I've worked for!"

Angela looked alarmed now, not that I blamed her. I must have sounded insane. "Bella, what…what are you talking about?" I drew in a deep breath, but said nothing. "Okay, never mind. This isn't really the place to talk anyway. Why don't we go back to my room? My roommate won't be there. We can hang out and talk. Maybe I can help."

I shook my head. "I appreciate the offer, Ang, but I don't think you can help." I attempted a smile, but from the look on Angela's face I wasn't entirely successful. "I just have to…keep together. Soon the semester will be over, and I'll have more time. I need more time, that's all."

"Oh, that's all? Such a small thing," Angela said sarcastically. "Bella, tonight I'm not taking no for an answer. You're coming to my room to talk, and that's final!"

*****

And that was how I found myself in Angela's room two hours later. I had gone to my second class - over Angela's protests - but it had been a useless endeavor. I was just as functional there as I had been in my first class, but this time, there was no Angela to save me. I sighed unhappily. _Now that professor probably thinks I'm an idiot._ _How wonderful._

Angela and I sat at her kitchen table, waiting for the food to arrive. As promised, her roommate was out. We had ordered pizza – a staple of student life, Angela had assured me, along with cereal, popcorn, and wings. Though she had admitted sheepishly that popcorn wasn't part of her repertoire – it seemed the smoke detector and Angela cooking popcorn did not mix. I had laughed at that. I might have even been able to enjoy myself, taking a moment to be a normal college student, if Angela hadn't been looking at me expectantly from across the table. And if I didn't have other things I could be doing back at the bookstore.

I met Angela's expectant gaze flatly. If this was a contest to see who would speak last, I would win. After all, she was the one who had insisted I come here. I didn't really have too much to say.

As expected, Angela broke the silence first. "So, Bella," she began uncertainly.

"So, Angela," I repeated back, letting my voice fill with false joviality. I wasn't feeling very cheerful at the moment. I wanted to go home and avoid this talk. If I didn't talk about my problems, maybe they would cease to exist. _Ha!_ My subconscious chortled at that wishful thinking.

"Bella," she tried again. "What happened today in class? You were totally out of it. And you seemed really upset after."

I fiddled with the blue cuff of my sweater as she waited for an answer. "I told you after – I can't be perfect all the time. Sometimes the pressure…builds up. Like today." I shrugged. "It led to a little breakdown on my part. I think maybe that was good. Cleansing. So now I can really concentrate on what needs to be done."

Angela met my shirking gaze directly. "That is the biggest load of bullshit I have ever heard," she said severely. "And I'm an English major. Every day I hear people talk about topics they know nothing about."

I let out a small laugh at that. What she said was true. But maybe Angela had missed her calling – if this interrogation was any indication, she would be great in pre-law. I sat silently as she continued to talk.

"And then what you said just before you left – what random guys have you been kissing?"

I felt the heat rise in my face. I guess it would have been too much to hope that Angela had missed that part. My idle fingers returned to the cuff of my sweater as I considered my response. What would be the harm in telling?

_The weakness_, the voice inside me whispered. _Do you want Angela to consider you weak? Incapable of standing up for yourself? Of resisting a man who could destroy everything you've worked for?_

Angela had been sitting silently as my internal debate raged on. Oh, what would be the harm in telling?

"Edward Cullen," I blurted out quickly, before I could think better of it and change my mind. At my admission, Angela's mouth had dropped open, her eyes widening as she processed the name I had spoken.

"Edward Cullen," she repeated slowly, obviously fighting to keep her reaction contained. "Isn't he trying to-"

"Buy the bookstore? Destroy everything I've built? Yes! Logically, I know all this. But he's so…" I could feel the heat rise to my cheeks as I spoke. "He's…magnetic. I don't know the right word. Undeniable? He doesn't even-" a choked laugh escaped before I could stop it. "He doesn't know who I am. I've been lying to all of them."

"All of who?" Angela asked, concern evident in her voice.

"Everyone. Everyone from his company. I've been lying to all of them. It's how I hold them off."

Angela's brows furrowed at my words. "Bella? I'm trying really hard to follow you, but I have no idea what you're saying. You've lost me."

And so I told her. How people from Edward's company had been coming by for months, trying to buy my store. How I'd downplayed their efforts when I told her about them previously. How I'd used her name to keep them away from 'Bella'. And how, finally, Edward Cullen himself had come to end the stand off. And kissed me. Twice.

Angela' eyes were wide by the time I'd finished, her mouth opening and closing slowly as she fought to find words.

"I know, right?" I laughed, hearing the hollow bitterness in my tone as Angela said nothing. After a minute, she jumped up, dashing into her bedroom.

"What are you doing?" I called out nervously, rising from my seat to follow her. When I entered her room, she was sitting at her desk, her internet homepage loading. I crossed the room to stand at her shoulder, watching as she clicked over to Google. "What are you doing?" I asked again.

"I want to see him," she replied, typing 'Edward Cullen' into the search space. She twisted in her seat to face me, a small grin spreading across her face. "I understand the seriousness of this, Bella. But please, let me be happy for a moment that my best friend has been pulled out of her solemn, quiet world, and experienced her first kiss." She beamed up at me.

I sputtered helplessly at her upturned face. "That- that is not true! Freshman year, Mike and I-"

She cut me off before I could continue, rolling her eyes. "A kiss on the cheek during a school assembly does not a first kiss make, Bella. Now, let's see this guy." Turning back to her laptop, she pressed 'enter' before I could stop her. She clicked over to images, and suddenly, Edward Cullen's face filled the screen. Angela let out a tiny squeal at the sight, enlarging the first image. A serious Edward gazed back at us from his profile page on his company's website. Angela turned her head to look up at me again. "Bella," she said seriously. "If you don't want him, you can send him over here." And then she burst out laughing.

I stood there in disbelief for a moment. What had happened to Angela? I looked down at her smiling face, and fought the urge to laugh with her. This situation was anything but funny. Now he had Angela on his side too?

"I'm sorry, Bella," Angela said, wiping her eyes as her laughter died down. "But he's just so- I mean, wow."

"He's very good-looking, Ang," I began. "But-"

Angela cut me off before I could continue. "No, Bella. Ben," referring to her boyfriend of two years, "is good-looking. As much as I love him, I can admit this. Your Edward is on a whole different level."

"He's not _my _Edward," I replied instantly. "He's just some asshole who wants to take away the most important thing in my life."

Angela started to say something, but a knock at the door interrupted her. "That must be our food!" she declared, rising from her chair. She walked over to her door, then paused and looked at me sternly. "This conversation is not over."

Once Angela was in the common room getting the pizza, I sat down at her desk and clicked back, looking at the search results. Edward Cullen with an attractive older couple - his parents, the website told me. Edward Cullen at a charity event, smiling politely at the camera as an attractive blonde smiled with him. At another event, this time with a redhead. I clicked through a few pages of results. Mostly he was unaccompanied in his pictures, though there were several with women. All very attractive women. What did he want with me?

Angela came back into the room, as the tantalizing smell of pizza wafted through the apartment. "Hungry? I have everything all set up in the kitchen. I figured you'd come in." Her eyes looked past me to her computer, seeing the images I was looking at. She smiled. "I guess the scenery's better in here."

My head fell back as I closed my eyes, fighting the sudden ache in my temples. I just couldn't deal with this right now. I took a second to gather myself, then rose from the chair and met Angela's gaze squarely. "Let's change the subject, okay? I'm in the mood for lighter conversation right now." My tone was overly sharp, but I fought back the urge to apologize. I needed a break from _somebody_.

Angela nodded, as I followed her into the kitchen. Over our pizza, she regaled me with talk of her boyfriend, her Thanksgiving plans, and a class I was thinking about taking next semester. I helped her clean up once we had both finished. It was eleven-thirty, and I had to go if I was going to get home sometime tonight.

I made my way over to the couch and picked up the coat I had tossed there earlier. "Ang, I have to leave. But thank you for worrying, and listening to my problems. I appreciate that. It was good to just…tell someone about it."

Angela smiled as I pulled on my coat, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I keep telling you. That's what friends are for. I wanted you to talk to me." He eyes dropped to my hands as I slid on gloves. "Look…do you want to stay here tonight? I don't know if you should be taking the bus so late by yourself."

I looked up from my gloves, surprised. "Oh. Well, I have some work to do back at the store. And I have some reading to do for-"

"Class in the morning," Angela finished. "Which I also have. So you can use my books. And borrow some clothes. It'll be fun." It sounded fun. I chewed on my lip, undecided. I really did have things that needed to be done back at the store. At my silence, Angela continued. "Please? You can finally meet my roommate."

That was true. Angela had wanted me to meet her new roommate since August, as the one she had had for the past two years was studying abroad this semester. And I could probably finish my class reading more quickly if Angela and I worked on it together.

"Okay," I acquiesced. "I guess I can do inventory tomorrow."

"Great!" Angela grinned. This time, it was genuine.

*****

An hour later, Angela and I were sitting across from each other on the couch – my makeshift bed – finishing the last of our reading. It had been faster, working together. I wasn't sorry I had stayed.

A clicking sound had me looking up from my book, as Angela turned towards the door. "There's Leah," she announced, sounding pleased. The door swung open quickly after her words, revealing a tall girl with tanned skin and long dark hair. A guy followed her in, shrugging off his coat to reveal arms thick with muscle and the same tanned skin.

"Dammit, Jake!" the girl was complaining. "This is the second time this month you've gotten us kicked out of the library. Pretty soon we'll be banned from the place. _Then_ where am I going to study?"

The guy slung a heavy arm around her shoulders, grinning. "It's not my fault those librarians can't lighten up. I need to a study break every now and then. It helps me concentrate, you know?"

"Inviting your little fuck buddies into the stacks to hook up does not count as a study break!" the girl yelled back.

I watched the fascinating interaction quietly. Angela, though, was not as silent, clearing her throat as the pair swung around, noticing us for the first time. The girl looked embarrassed, while the guy continued to grin, apparently unabashed.

"Hi guys," Angela said dryly. "This is Bella. Bella, my roommate Leah and her friend Jake."

"Her _best _friend Jake," the guy clarified, leaning forward to shake my hand. "Bella, huh?" he asked, as his large hand enveloped mine. "You look familiar. Have we met before?"

"Umm, around campus, maybe?" I asked, trying to tug my hand free. He wouldn't let go.

"No, that's not it," he shook his head. He stared harder at me. "Bella…Bella Swan?"

How did he know my name? I cocked my head at him as his face lit up. "It is you, isn't it? Remember me – Jake?" He laughed. "You used to come out to La Push all the time with your dad…ten year ago, maybe?"

I stared up at him in shock. "Jake?" He was a lot _bigger_ than I remembered.

"You do remember!" he pulled me from the couch by my arm, lifting me off my feet as he enfolded me in a tight hug. "I missed you when you stopped coming around."

I nodded, dropping down to my feet when he finally let go. His hands crept to my waist instead, touching me more familiarly than I would have preferred from a childhood friend I barely remembered. "How are you, Jake?" I asked formally.

"I'm great," he replied, grinning back at me, his hands still on my waist. "How are _you_?"

I smiled politely at him as I took a step back. Maybe I was sorry I had stayed after all.

* * *

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